An Evening With Alfred
by Derby
Summary: Jack. A theatre. A ghost. Not what you're expecting.. (Marshmallow dipped Newsies to anyone who reviews ^___^)


A/N: I NEEDED to write something, so this is the result. : P  
  
Disclaimer: You can probably figure it out.  
  
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An Evening With Alfred  
  
  
  
Porcine clouds shifted slowly across a melancholy sky, a painting of mournful gray and murk. A draft of icy wind clawed through the cracks in the wall and teemed into bloodstreams. The silence blanketed the lodging house like snow on tree branches in midwinter.  
  
Jack couldn't bear it any longer; his mind wouldn't allow him to sleep. The late autumn wind pouring in from the floorboards made him more aggravated. Quietly he slipped down from his bunk, grabbed a light coat and stepped out onto the fire escape from the window.  
  
The cold outside seemed to have been waiting for him. Frost lay lightly on the stairs glimmering under the slate rays of moonlight. Trees lining the streets were bare, the leaves fallen long ago now crumbled and withered. The entire city was bathed in argent, taller buildings haloed in the darkness.  
  
Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets, the blood beginning to flow back into his fingertips after the needle teeth of frost had bit. In the distance he saw the brazen glow of a small fire, shadowed faces looming over it. He longed to be near the fire, phoenix flames dancing before him. Deciding against it, he wandered down the pallid streets lined with glass-fronted shops the insides ebony.  
  
He stopped at the Marouise Theatre, the sable stones soft. The theatre was often abounding with wealthy men and women looking to see the latest show. Jack had never been inside the place, the price to see a flicker there was steep. Although the heavy oak doors were locked, something beckoned Jack. As though a thousand invisible hands were guiding him, he advanced onto the fire escape and onto the cool roof.  
  
A small skylight was nearly hidden in the veil of shadows. Jack pried the gleaming glass out of its place, laying it carefully beside the aperture. Lowering himself in, he let go, landing on something soft.  
  
The thin light from the empty skylight above let Jack see. Deep red velvet covered chairs were lined perfectly straight against each other in rows; matching curtains were pulled to the side of a blank screen held by regal gold ropes. Jack saw nothing of interest but couldn't seem to leave.  
  
He slumped into a seat, removing his infamous black cowboy hat. Gazing above at the intricately painting of angels, birds and vines on the ceiling he could only think, "So this is what it's like to be rich." The word rich fluttered with an echo in the back of his mind. His chin rested on his hand. The wan screen seemed to be glowing softly, diminutive specks of silver racing across the plane of white.  
  
'The show's about to start."  
  
Jack nearly sprang out of his seat; his heart beat struggling to return to normal. He hadn't noticed the man sitting two seats away.  
  
The man said nothing more, but merely turned his gaze to the screen, which was now emitting a soft hum. A small smile played on his strangely pale lips. Jack glanced over at the man, noticing his skin was cadaverous in contrast to Jack's own sun kissed tan. His clothing was slightly outdated and he held onto a gleaming black cane, he seemed old, much older than Jack had first assumed. Jack wondered why the man was there, the theatre was closed, and surely he hadn't come in the same way as Jack had.  
  
Faded photos began appearing on the screen, each portraying smiling people. A man and a woman held onto a grinning child, their faces alight with joy. Jack recognized them as his parents and gasped. How?  
  
More photos drifted by, some scenes Jack found familiar, and others he had never known. A boy turning shyly away from the camera in one photo caused the man to appear next to Jack, sitting just as he had before.  
  
He pointed to the boy on the screen, "That's my grandson, with his starry eyes. He is going to make something of himself, I know." His voice was bonny and amiable. The man was silent again, his vein-laced hands resting on the cane.  
  
Jack could see himself in the boy's face; his eyes were identical. The same starry eyes. He realized at last, that boy was him. The old man's eyes were a similar colour as well.  
  
A sepia photo was suspended on the screen, the details obvious. It was of Jack and his parents, and the man with a woman. His parents had their hands on the young boy's shoulders, and the man and woman were smiling placidly. Jack's eyes were wide with disbelief, he grinned at the faces. His parents, his grandfather, Alfred and his grandmother, they were all there with frozen tenderness.  
  
Jack turned to the seat next to him, realizing who the man was. His delight faded, the man was gone.  
  
"Grandfather?" His voice reverberated through the great empty space. There was no answer.  
  
He was puzzled, but a small smile began to creep onto his lips. He replaced the panel of glass on the skylight and took flight, his feet barely grazing the ground as he left for the Lodging House.  
  
Inside the theatre, a twilight voice melted into the pastel silence, "Goodbye Jack."  
  
  
  
All was silent once more.  
  
  
  
  
  
--- Derby: ooo, weird! I kinda like it ^_^ By the way, I just made up that theatre, lol. Thanks for reading. 


End file.
